


ab initio

by fictitiously



Category: The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 20:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2481899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictitiously/pseuds/fictitiously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When she runs for states attorney, its no surprise really. Everyone knew from the start that she would. And with him, it's no different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ab initio

When the campaign officially happens, nobody is surprised. Diane is proud, proud that a woman will run against Castro and even prouder that it’s Alicia. Eli is dripping with self-satisfaction. Peter is nervous, nervous about what this means for him. Kalinda is confident that she’ll win. Cary is worried, about the firm, about his case, about her. Finn’s supportive, constantly giving her advice and his opinion. But nobody at all is surprised.

 

And now, a month or two later and she’s actually doing this. She’s building a platform, and her face is constantly on television and she’s being begged for a sit down by the same reporters who looked at her with pity when she was the wife of a cheating husband,

It’s surreal. It’s like it’s not her, like she’s watching someone else. It’s not that she doesn’t want this. She does. But the Alicia running for State’s Attorney is not the Florrick-Agos Alicia. She’s not the Governor’s wife Alicia. She’s not the mother of two Alicia. She’s most definitely not Lockhart-Gardner Alicia.

This Alicia is different. She’s calmer. She’s more deceiving. Alicia’s never been a Saint. She’s never been the Saint Alicia that the media wanted her so desperately to be. But still, this Alicia has an edge, as Eli likes to call it. She’s rolls his eyes every time he says it. But he’s not wrong.

She has a meeting with some potential endorsers, one of which is a super-conservative catholic who hates her husband. She’s put on her most convincing “Saint Alicia” smile, worn her most “church on Sunday” suit and thought about what Finn had told her on the phone the night before.

It starts early on, barely a week after they meet about the opposition research. She’s frustrated. Eli can be positively overwhelming, Peter is indifferent. Her mother has been desperately trying to insert herself in the campaign and it’s infuriating. Diane and Cary are silent supporters. But she needs to talk, she needs to vent, she needs feedback from someone who is not worried about their own self-serving interests. So she picks up the phone and dials a number that’s becoming increasingly familiar.

They start meeting for drinks after work, different bars. They never stay long. They talk on the phone; he calls her in the morning. She likes to talk at night. Phone calls are short and vague when it comes to campaign topics. They’re practically sneaking around.

She mentions that one night, at a dive across town. She’s the only one in the crowded bar drinking a glass of wine. They’re sitting in a dark corner. She’s sitting against the wall.

“I feel like we’re sneaking around. It’s like…” She stops herself from finishing the sentence and takes a long sip of her wine.

He’s looking at her, propping his chin up with an elbow, dark liquor in a glass in his other hand. He smiles and lets out a small quiet laugh.

He finishes her thought  “An affair without …”

“The affair…” she continues.

“The benefits.” He corrects.

And she laughs - genuine, breathy, eye-crinkling laugh. And he laughs too but his is more silent, bright eyed.

She’s become aware of things like this. She’s aware of when she laughs. Laughter is supposed to be a normal thing. But after everything that’s happened. After Will. It’s not. It wasn’t. But lately the sound of her own laughter has stopped startling her. It’s more common now. It accompanies the sound of low music and constant chatter in random bars. It usually followed by the low breathe of his own. And her own laughter feels like a secret.

They’re friends. The only reason they meet like this is because of speculation from the press. There’s nothing more too it. That’s what she tells herself.

Once she had told herself she’d never forgive a cheater. She had told herself she’d never be unfaithful. She’d told herself she’d never sleep with her boss.

She also told herself she’d never get into politics.

And look where she is now.

But she’s some type of happy now. Maybe happy is too strong of a word. Satisfied. She’s actually satisfied with her life. She won’t deny that he’s apart of that. Their friendship, it’s helped in a weird way. She has to admit that at least.

 

\----

When she agreed to run, nobody was actually surprised.

When this happens, she’s not surprised either. Neither is he.

Both events begin in similar ways.

 

_(a rumor)_

“We heard you’re running for States Attorney.” It was something she heard from just about everyone, even before she was actually asked.

 

_(an idea)_

Once it was brought up, it was something that she couldn’t get out of her head.

At first she had feigned disbelief. Not because she didn’t think she could do it. But because she didn’t think anyone would want her too. That was the surprise.

But once the seed is planted. It grows.

 

 

_(the action)_

Eli plants the seed. He sets the fire under her. Whichever metaphor you want to use, Eli prompts the decision.

But the decision’s still all hers. The rumor had gotten her thinking. The rumor gave her the idea. The idea consumed her until she took action.

Despite her previous protests, her attempts at denial, part of her always knew she’d agree.

 

Part of her knew this would happen too.

 

 

_(the rumor)_

The first time Eli asked her about Finn, armed with accusations, she laughs. It’s mere weeks after Will’s death. And here is Eli asking if she’s sleeping with Finn. She’s walking the line between being completely baffled and completely offended.

But this is Eli and this is Chicago and the smallest incident can start the largest rumor.

 

 

_(the idea)_

She doesn’t think about it again for a while. They become acquaintances, maybe even friends. Even when they’re on opposite sides, there’s a sense of ease. It’s not because Cary’s case isn’t serious but there’s almost playfulness to it, to them yelling at each other from opposite sides of the courtroom.

He’s easy – easy to talk to, easy to explain herself to, easy to be around. Not many people are easy for her to be around lately.

It reminds her of something Eli had said the first night he marched into her living room, firing off accusations. She laughs and denies it. They’re not sleeping together. Will just died. Will just died in his arms. And here is Eli asking if they’re sleeping together.

“Well..” Eli starts, with that signature Eli Gold smirk where he already knows the outcome of the conversation

“ It wouldn’t be surprising if you did.” She’s confused at first because he doesn’t sound nervous, he isn’t being condescending.

And when she looks surprised he just lets out an obnoxious chuckle.

“You don’t even know it. Do you, Alicia?” he’s grinning.

“You have a type.” And he leaves.

She tries not to think about if he’s right or not.

 

 

_(a rumor, again.)_

This time it’s the opposition research. It’s the photo from outside her apartment and now she’s just rolling her eyes at it. She was deposing him as a witness to the death of the man she was sleeping with and people might think they were having an affair.

 

_(an idea, again.)_

When she tells him about the photo, about her campaign, about the possibility of a rumor, it’s all so easy.

This is the start. This begins their meetings. A conversation that should have been awkward pushes forward their friendship.

Here she was, the woman whose lover he held in his arms as he died. He’s the man who is prosecuting her partner for a crime he didn’t commit. And here she is, running for the position that could’ve been, should’ve been his. And here they are, laughing about the irony of it all.

 

\----

This, the culmination of months of whispered jokes in dimly lit bars. It all comes slowly. But it all leads to this.

She wins. It’s no surprise really. There’s a celebration. Diane won’t stop smiling and telling her how proud she is. Cary hugs her, says he’s going to miss his partner, thanks her for everything she’s done for him. Kalinda stands silently in the corner, champagne in hand, giving her a nod. Eli is practically floating on air with excitement, buzzing around, already forming an agenda in his mind. Peter’s playing the dutiful, supportive husband and it’s honestly satisfying, seeing the roles reverse.

The kids are there, smiling and laughing along with Jackie and her mother and Owen, who are all surprisingly on their best behavior. There’s a celebration with all the people she’s supposed to want there but she’s looking around the room for someone else’s face.

And then she see’s him, stepping into the room, smiling. He congratulations her with a bright smile— a soft hand on her shoulder and a shine in his eyes like a secret. They talk briefly. But he stays for awhile.

And every time she looks around his eyes are on her. She sees him head out the door and she stops herself from leaving right away.

Her phone flashes. “If it can’t be me. I’m glad it’s you.”

Something comes over her, a new found confidence. “I could use a better drink.” She hesitates before pressing send.

A green bubble appears almost immediately. “But you’re the State’s Attorney. You could be my boss, we could be having an affair.” She smiles, almost laughs out loud.

She ducks into the bathroom when Eli looks at her with a raised eyebrow. She bites her lip, she feels like she’s in high school, shy and flirting with the older, popular boy that she wasn’t supposed to speak to. She types her response slowly. She’s definitely had too much wine.

“Then you’d have good taste, Mr. Polmar.” She’s heading out the door before he responds.

\----

_(fulfillment)_

He’d just bought an apartment a few weeks back. Things hadn’t been working out with his wife for awhile.

She gets a cab, walks around the block and then walks the three blocks over to the apartment. It’s nothing she hasn’t done before when going to meet him. The secrecy was necessary; she couldn’t have the media speculating.

That’s what she told herself.

But this time feels different.

The rumor, the idea of a secret relationship has becoming a running joke between them.

Or atleast that’s what they tell themselves.

She doesn’t realize how tipsy she is until she’s ringing his bell. The wine has her breathe heavy, her heart beating quick, her face flushed. It’s the wine.

That’s what she tells herself.

He opens the door with a small grin and invites her in. He lives on the first floor and he leads her straight to the kitchen. She sits at the counter.

He takes out two glasses and a bottle of scotch. “So, Eli already trying to talk business?” he pours her a glass.

He doesn’t stop looking at her the whole time.

She laughs and takes the glass. “Well he’s the one who sent me here, obviously.” She takes a long sip.

She doesn’t break his gaze.

He laughs and walks toward her, leans up against the counter and takes a sip of his own drink. “So…how does it feel now that you’ve won?”

And suddenly she’s painfully aware of how close he’s standing.

She laughs. “You know, I hate that type of question.” She’s drawing lines with the condensation on the black counter. “It’s just like when my grandmother used to asked my on my birthday how it felt to be another year older. I don’t feel any different.”

“Not yet...” He’s leaning down now, elbows propped on the counter holding his chin.

She has that feeling again. The feeling like she’s becoming a new Alicia. Like she’s watching herself change. Maybe’s he’s right.

She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “ So maybe, I will be different. Everyone becomes… different. I just don’t feel it. Not yet.”

Her glass is empty and he pours more without asking her. “ You will. “

There’s a pause. And they’re just looking at each other. Staring actually. He’s still partially in his clothes from the election party. His jackets hanging across a chair, his sleeves are rolled up, his buttons and tie loosened. She’s taking it all in.

“ What’s that supposed to mean?” She talks quieter now. She’s not sure where this is going.

“ Well, for starters. This is certainly not something you should be doing.”

“Sitting and having a drink with a friend?” her voice cracks when she says friend.

“ Coming to the apartment of the person people could think your sleeping with?” He’s turned toward her now, back leaning lazily against the counter.

She leans toward it. “But. We’re not.”

He sighs. “ We’re not…” he trails off like there’s more to say.

She gets up without thinking. She mimics his position leaning against the counter, leaning toward him. She swirls her drink and then looks at him.

She’s not even sure who moves first. But it’s almost instantaneous.

She sitting on the counter now and her jackets sliding down her shoulders and his mouth is sliding against hers.

She laughs. Actually laughs into his mouth.

He pulls away tentatively. “So, is this happening?”

But his hands haven’t stopped moving against her hips.

“We both knew it would.” She kisses him.

It’s no surprise, really.


End file.
